


Defining Titles

by Crazypups



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Almost Slow Burn, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Romance, Sarcasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-30 02:10:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10866837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazypups/pseuds/Crazypups
Summary: Evelyn Trevelyan was born a mage. How unfortunate.She trudges through life and then they make her the Inquisitor.





	Defining Titles

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this has nothing to do with my other fic, although it might be similar? A bit dark, but also a bit funny. Enjoy!

Her station was made known the moment fire tickled her fingertips. Gone was the prospect of a future in court wearing fancy dresses and in came dark hallways with human statues. It was unfair. The Trevelyan family had no mage blood, at least none of which they spoke of. She exchanged dresses for robes and a lifetime of confinement. 

She adapted, survived but then the world went to shit.

Her. A mage, made Herald of Andraste and Inquisitor. She was supposed to be a no one stuck in a tower withering away.

Andraste’s flaming tits Evelyn was not meant for this.

* * *

 “Inquisitor,” Leliana said with a tip of her head.

The title grated, and it’s not something that would go away. “Yes?”

“Fort Adamant, we were speaking of its construction while you drifted off.” Leliana glanced at the map, her hands folded behind her back. Such a cold woman, shaped by circumstance. Much like herself.

Evelyn glanced to her other advisors, Josephine’s attention on her board and Cullen staring at her. His gaze was strong and steady, with a touch of worry.

Wrong, wrong, oh so wrong. A mage commanding a Templar. They weren’t those things anymore, defined by new titles but the tower still chased her and she couldn’t shake it off. Perhaps she didn’t want to. Evelyn shook her head, narrowing her eyes. “Apologizes, continue Sister Nightingale.”

“There are choke points we could utilize since a straight on attack is ill advisable.”

“Indeed,” Cullen answered, “We may not be able to defeat them but by cutting off reinforcements, we can carve a path straight to Warden-Commander Clarel.”  

Evelyn nodded. “This strategy is…ill-advised wouldn’t you say? Laying siege to a legendary fort filled with demons, not to mention mages tethered to Corypheus.” And close to the Winter Palace as well. She’d rather face demons than nobles.

Cullen opened his mouth to retort but she beat him to it.

“But we have no other choice, do we?”

“It will be hard fought, no way around it Inquisitor. This is the only way.”

Josephine lifted her quill. “It’s possible some Wardens are…”

The rest of the meeting ended in a blur, everyone in agreement about what was to come. Evelyn left the War Room first, not waiting for the others. She didn’t stop to greet her guests or Varric, heading straight out the door and past Skyhold’s gate. Finally, alone and away from stupid titles and expectations.

Evelyn sat on the ground leaning the tree. She flipped her palm, glaring at anchor. It had grown larger, not a noticeable change but enough for her to notice. Will it consume her someday? This stain that people worshiped? Another lie but a necessary one as Leliana said. It will kill her someday, that was the only certainty in her future.  

A well-placed cut and everything would vanish. It would be quick, but painful, but freeing from everything thrust upon her. Andraste was willing, so why didn’t she have a choice? The Maker forced no such responsibility but he loved Andraste, didn’t he? And that condemned her.

“Fuck the Maker.” This was not gift but a curse from a crazed magister. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Evelyn slammed her head against the trunk, the beginning of a bruise making itself known.

“Inquisitor?”

Fuck.

She glanced at the Commander, wearing his usual coat and armor. Sometimes he looked dashing like he might whisk her away and kiss away her fears. Other times he was inhuman, the workaholic that trained the troops.

She should really stand and greet him, explain away the behavior he certainly saw but Evelyn didn’t move, instead she said, “Care to join me, Commander?”

The man’s face twisted, his eyes set on her face. Was he calculating every possible angle of how this could go? Or considering her offer? He joined her on the ground after a few tense moments.

“This is my favorite spot,” Evelyn said filling in the silence. With him it was weird, there had to be words in-between.

“On the ground staining your pants?” he replied, ending with a chuckle.

She could take them off. Evelyn blinked the thought away. “The trees look taller, older, and everything vanishes.” There were no trees at the tower and seeing them stand tall was underwhelming and yet overwhelming. She had to be like them, unbendable to the wind.

“I― Eve―Inquisitor, you can confide in me.”

He was looking at her with those eyes and she refused to meet them. This was one of those bonding moments people shared, exchanging hardships and fostering relations. Too bad she never had the pleasure. “Can I?” There were many things she wanted, but it twisted with duty and other things like her blood and what pulsed through it.

“I wouldn’t offer in the first place if you couldn’t.”

She laughed at that, rolling her head to meet his gaze. A mistake. The Commander’s nose was too close, lips within reach. His brown eyes widened, flecks of gold surrounding the iris. He didn’t move either.

“A former Circle mage confiding to a former Templar.” A little closer and their lips would touch.

The moment broken, Cullen moved away. His eyebrows lowered, smothering his eyes into a glare. “That’s why―” Cullen cleared his throat but it doesn’t erase the anger in his voice. “I hope our former pasts don’t interfere with the Inquisition’s purpose.” He stood, rolling his shoulders back. “I suggest you retire, the sun is setting.”

Evelyn also stood, dusting off her pants. “I can take care of myself.” Should she step into his space again? Tempt the Templar only to deny him once again?

“I am well aware.” Cullen’s gaze was on Skyhold, his back iron straight. When he stood in that manner with that tilt…

She stepped closer than necessary, placing a hand on his arm. “Will you escort me, dear Commander.” Evelyn lowered her eyelashes and smiled.

“No.” He removed her arm, creating space between them.

Evelyn closed it once again. “Are you afraid, my dear Commander, of a little mage?”

When he faced her his eyes were hard. “I pity the women behind the many masks the Inquisitor wears.”

His words froze her unlike any spell ever had. She slapped him. Evelyn marched past him, keeping her head high. She won’t show him how much his words shook her, nor the tears prickling her eyes. She was the Inquisitor, the unwilling Herald of Andraste. Might as well pretend to fill the title.

* * *

They only spoke when necessary, which included meetings and briefings on the forces. He was always too busy working, locked up in that tower writing away on his desk. Sturdy, decorative desk that demanded all of his time. Stupid, bloody desk.

When he wasn’t looking she would stare, finding his eyes tired and posture curling like his hair. Not that she cared, Evelyn was fine. The Wardens were rebuilding, they were one step closer to defeating Corypheus, the Winter Palace was coming up, and her title still grated. And Adamant was rough. Fucking brutal to be honest.

Poor Varric, he hadn’t been the same since. Her chest tightens every time she passed him while he averted his gaze. It was an easy decision in the moment, if anyone would survive, it would be Hawke. But then the portal was closing and Hawke was too far away… Maybe she shouldn’t have picked Hawke.

Evelyn shook the thoughts away. There was nothing she could do for him aside from repeating apologies but he didn’t need those.

Evelyn slapped her face, drawing attention to herself.

“Inqui―”

“Evelyn. My name is Evelyn.” Not Inquisitor, Herald, or Trevelyan.

The servant’s mouth remained open and Evelyn couldn’t stay in the Great Hall any longer. She roamed the battlements, picking an empty tower and climbed to the roof. It was in the process of becoming a Templar’s Tower, the builders recently finished the stairs to the roof. No one would bother her here; or rather, think of looking for her on top of an empty tower.

Evelyn lay on the warm stone, staring at the clouds. She didn’t move when the sky turned purple and not when people called her title. They should be used to her disappearing.

“There you are!” the Commander said letting out a sigh. He approached her, feet stopping by her head.

At this angle he towered over her and she shivered. Evelyn sat up making sure to face him.

When she didn’t respond the Commander rubbed his neck. “Why do you often disappear?”

Evelyn laughed. “So they have learned.”

“Still worrisome, we can’t have our Inquisitor vanishing without a word.”

“Why don’t you join me?” She wasn’t moving and he wasn’t leaving.

The Commander made a loud grunt, settling down across from her. His armor clicked and clanged with all the effort it took. “So?” he asked.

“Sew buttons.” Her father detested the word ‘so’, always muttering the infernal phrase when she said it. Well, that was before the fire.

“Inquisitor.”

“Commander.” Evelyn’s mouth tilted to the side.

“Evelyn.”            

Her smile fell and she stared at him, keeping her face impassive. Why? After all this time, why use her name now? When the silence grew too much she lay down again, watching the darkening sky. “The tower was always so dark, enclosed. They rarely let us out. Forgive me if I’d rather spend my time outside. Alone.” She traded one prison for another, except this one came with perks.

“It still follows, doesn’t it? An old friend that isn’t friendly.”

She tensed and that answered his question.

“For the longest time it too lurked, and I was…unwell. I said some terrible things about mages, things I regret now,” his voice took on a somber tone, one that spoke of regret and pain.

“It ruined me,” the words tumbled out of her mouth and it was easier when he wasn’t looking at her, “for everything. Relationships, feelings, emotions, everything was a game, a calculated choice. It makes me a good leader, but a cold one.” Evelyn laughed at that, the hard decisions weren’t hard. Her unwavering moral compass was the only saving grace. “I don’t―” Evelyn curled to her side, tucking her chin into her chest. “I can’t seem to learn.”

His armor squeaked and when he spoke, his voice was much closer. “Can’t, or won’t.”

Evelyn gulped. “Perhaps a bit of both.” But that was changing, wasn’t it? Her admission was proof of it.

“I can help if you’ll allow me. And so will the others.”

“My inner circle that isn’t so inner.” Vivienne understood the best compared to the rest, but she was also a snake in pretty clothing. Solas was wise and yet his eyes held secrets, many of them. Blackwall, Cassandra, and Sera wouldn’t understand while Iron Bull saw too much. Cole well, the spirit human thing was helpful at his best, frightening at his worst.

The Commander was different. They shared a similar past, each tormented by their own kind. It might explain her platonic interest. His face helped matters as well.

“Commander?”

“Yes?”

“Please call me Evelyn.”

“Only if you call me Cullen.” There was a smile in there, even though she couldn’t see it.

“Very well, Cullen.” His name tasted weird on her lips, foreign and forbidden. She sat up, stretching her arms. “I suppose we have lingered enough.”

“That we did.” The Comman―Cullen rose and helped her up, his hands closing around hers. She was in his space again but this time she didn’t linger. Evelyn let go of his hands and began her descent, Cullen close behind.

* * *

Evelyn threw her cards on the table, cracking her fingers. Josephine had won this round again and would continue to do so. No sense in losing more coin. Although, Cullen had different ideas.

“I have figured out your tells, Lady Ambassador.” He leaned back, his smile twisting around the scar on his lips.

“Just like last time, Commander?” Josephine replied, raising an eyebrow.

Evelyn raised a hand to her lips, muffling her laughter.

His cheeks reddened but he didn’t move from his spot.

“I disagree,” Cassandra said, rising from her chair. “I’d rather not witness a repeat performance.” With those words, the Seeker left.

“Do play on. I’m not leaving this time.” Dorian leaned forward in his chair, shooting her a wink.

Varric shook his head and Blackwall merely grunted.

As exciting as this was, Evelyn got up from her chair. “Enjoy everyone, Cullen―try not to lose your mane.”

Evelyn left the tavern, tasting the night air. The mountains had a different smell, fresh and clean with a touch of dirt. Sighing she glanced towards her tower. She should really get some rest, there were nobles to greet and plans to make but the night sky was too appealing. Someone had the perfect view as well.

Cullen’s door swung open without resistance, his office unlit. His desk sat in the back, mountains of papers sitting on top. Could he see past those papers? Evelyn sat at his desk, raising her head. She couldn’t but Cullen was a head taller. Well, the man certainly wasn’t the neatest worker. With a shrug, Evelyn left the desk climbing to the second level.

She sat on the bed, the mattress sinking under her weight. With a huff, Evelyn rolled over having a perfect view of the sky. It’s a good thing they didn’t patch the hole, but what of the rain and snow? Did he move his bed? A simple weather barrier would solve the problem. Or a window but that would stop the air from coming in. She could adjust the parameters of the spell allowing wind while blocking out annoying aspects of nature. A Ferelden wouldn’t be bothered by the cold.

Evelyn should blast a hole in her roof as well, it needed some redecorating but then Josephine would throw a fit. The Inquisitor can’t live with a hole in the roof.    

The Inquisitor. Evelyn’s smile fell, although whenever she considered the chantry the smile came back. They must hate it, a mage leading the Inquisition. “A mage.” She reached for the stars. “Why couldn’t I be normal? A true Trevelyan.”

“You’re more than that.”

Evelyn gasped and flew up. She scrambled off the bed, face flushing. “Oh―Commander, uh, you’ve returned,” she finished lamely.

He was missing his armor, wearing breeches and a white linen shirt. So that’s how he snuck up on her. “Yes well, once the armor came off―again―I’ve decided to cut my losses. Antivians.” Cullen shook his head, not the least bothered by her presence.

“Well. I should probably go.” Evelyn walked past him, keeping her head down.

Cullen didn’t let her leave, grabbing onto her elbow. “You aren’t simply a mage. It’s a part of your identity Evelyn, but it does not define you.”

Evelyn froze, her heart beating against her ribcage. “Then what does?” That’s what people saw first so how can it not? If she wasn’t the Inquisitor, she’d either be dead or a slave to Corypheus.

“Your actions, decisions define you, Evelyn,” Cullen said his voice soft. His hand was still on her arm, rubbing small circles on her bicep. His warmth penetrated the thin material.  

She faced him, gravitating closer. “Yes?” Evelyn asked, a bit breathless.

“You’re a good person, if not troubled.”

Evelyn snorted. “You mean bitch.”

“Blasphemy. And…” Cullen’s hand moved from her elbow to her waist. She placed her hands on his chest, spreading her fingers. Cullen’s heart beat strong and quick, much like her own.

“And?”

“And against all odds, I seem to have…” Cullen tripped over the words, gulping. The movement drew her eyes. “I seem to have lost my mind. Forgive me.” He dropped his hand.

“Oh.” Evelyn’s hands tingled, so close to touching his skin. How would it feel? Taste? Salty or sweet? Probably salty. Evelyn licked her lips and dropped her hands, sliding them down his torso. Cullen shivered. Desire sparked in his eyes and it was so plain to see, why didn’t he make a move? Kiss her?  

It had to be her blood and title. She tasted spite and anger. With another look to his blushing face, Evelyn grabbed onto his shirt and rose to her toes. She kissed his cheek and said, “As you were, Commander.”

* * *

“ _The Rose of Orlais_ is a brilliant read, best book I’ve ever come across.” Dorian shoved the book into her hands wearing a saucy smile.

“I see…what manner of book is this?” Evelyn rotated the book, not finding anything special.

“A social commentary on Orlesian history. A must read to better grasp the Game.” Dorian leaned against the bookshelf, folding his arms. He still wore that shit eating grin.

“I don’t believe you, but I’ll give this a try.”

 “Oh you must, I implore you!”

Evelyn resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “And have you read my recommendation?”

“What? Ah, the one about Ferelden dogs? Honestly, you southerners and your pets. Is there Eau de Mabari? No? What a shame, perhaps I should take on the challenge,” Dorian said, twirling his mustache.

“I assure you, it would be a success.” 

“Ah, Dorian and the Inquisitor.” Solas approached them holding a book of his own, _Dane and the Werewolf_. An interesting choice. “Have you another recommendation for me?” he addressed Dorian.

Dorian pursed his lips. “I believe I do, _Adventures of the Black Fox_ if you’re in a playful mood, or _A Dissertation on the Fade as a Physical Manifestation_ for a more an intellectual read _.”_

“I’ve read that one, it was interesting. He’s polarizing, isn’t he?” she asked either mage.

Dorian nodded. “Yes, but I find myself agreeing with the man.”

“Thank you,” Solas said, “I will ask about the second.” He left, not before glancing at Evelyn’s book and chuckling. 

Evelyn narrowed her eyes. “I have a feeling you’ve lied to me.”

Dorian shot her a wink. “Tell me how it goes!”  

* * *

The book was dirty alright, in a good way that curled her toes and clenched her stomach but left an aching need that had to be filled.

Evelyn shut the book, a playful smile stretching her lips. She slipped off her bed, grabbed the book, and headed for Cullen’s tower. As always, he sat at his desk surrounded by papers and revolving messengers.

“Evelyn,” Cullen greeted her. He spared her a glance before resuming his work. “How can I be of service?”

“Nothing really, this is a personal call.” She hovered by his desk, the book behind her back.

“Personal, you say?” Cullen set down his quill. “What’s the occasion?”

She waited until the messenger left, plopping the book on his desk.

Cullen stared at her and the book, eyes wide and slight blush on his cheeks. “That’s, erh, very personal I suppose.”

“Dorian was right, it is essential in understanding Orlesian politics. I quite loved chapter 15. The character development left things to be desired, but overall…” Evelyn gulped, her mouth dry. Cullen was smirking. That wasn’t right. “...It was a good read.”

Cullen stood from his chair, walking towards her with the book in his hand. “Back at Kinloch Hold, I knew this Senior Enchanter. She had an appetite for books, and this was included in her infamous collection.”

“Oh,” she squeaked. It was her turn to blush. Andraste’s tits, he wasn’t supposed to know it was a dirty book! “Well then, I’ll just.” Evelyn pressed her lips together and seized the book in his hands.

Cullen didn’t let go, placing a hand over hers. “But if you insist, I’ll give this a read. I may learn some riveting Orlesian strategies.”

Her face burned and she could only stare at him with a dumbfounded expression. Was that a…dirty joke? From the Commander? Or not a joke, but a preposition. “Maker preserve me.” Shit. “No―I uh―I need it back.”

Cullen tilted his head. “You wish to read it once more?”

“That won’t―oh look at the time. I have someone to condemn, excuse me.” She spun on her heels too quick, losing her balance and falling.

He caught her, hands on her shoulders and her back to his chest. “Is everything alright, Evelyn?” Cullen asked, his breath tickling her ear.

This was ridiculous, a few months back it was her teasing the man. She was hardly affected before. Winter Palace must have changed things. Seeing him in tight fitting clothing with that crooked smile… Evelyn scrambled, not bothering to answer him and left without a goodbye. It was because of the stupid book, that’s why she was embarrassed. Definitely not because of him.

* * *

“And so I lost control of my magic setting the Senior Enchanter’s hair on fire. Suffice to say he never looked at me the same and refused to help with elemental magic. Said I was never going anywhere in…well. I proved him wrong now, didn’t I?”

Varric laughed, shaking his head. “Who would have thought?” His smile reached his eyes, but it wasn’t the same. Something was missing, a certain Hawke.  

Evelyn dropped her head. “Varric, how is―Varric, is all well?”

“Inquisitor, I know, you don’t need to beat yourself up over it.” He sighed, glancing towards the papers on the table. Had he finished all the letters? He must have, two months passed since Adamant. She shouldn’t have asked, not when the wound was still fresh. Hadn’t he snapped at Cassandra for bringing up the same thing?

“You can blame me, you know. It is my fault. I never thought―I was so sure she would have survived.”

“Inqui―”

“Evelyn, Varric. I’m your friend and with all the shit we’ve seen I think I deserve my name.”

He smiled at that. “Evelyn, Hawke would slap us both and tell us to keep moving. Make some witty comment and call it a good day. ‘Don’t you have a world to save?’” He imitated Hawke’s voice. “‘Or do I have to do it all myself.’ Anyway, someone needs to write all this down. Might as well be me.”

Evelyn nodded, inhaling deeply. “That’s a reason to stick by, I provide some interesting inspiration.” It was meant as a joke, but could it be true? Someone always wanted something.

“That and the booze, you guys know the way to my heart. So, your Inquisitorialness, have a moment? I know the most interesting story involving Curly.”

* * *

She arrived at the War Room early, as did Cullen. Considering they were 15 minutes early Evelyn raised her eyebrow. “Are you always so early?”

“Only on Thursdays.” Cullen looked up from the war table and smiled, the scar twisting. Somehow it made him more endearing. “What brings you here at this time?”

“I had time.” And a purpose, what luck to catch him early! “So, I spoke to Varric.”

Cullen nodded.

“And he told the most peculiar story involving a Templar in Kirkwall.”

The blood drained from his face. “There are many stories about Templars in Kirkwall.”

So it was true, how delicious. “How’d it go…” She put a finger to her lips, squinting her eyes. “Yes, so our hero had―has―a love affair with hair. And due to constraints within the Gallows at the time complied with the Qunari occupation.” Evelyn paused, her smile growing. “Certain shipments were harder to acquire such as pomade. Our hero had to make do with the available resources and once he heard of―”

“Inquisitor!”

Evelyn blinked. “Yes, Cullen.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Shouldn’t we focus on―on the coming mission.”

“So my story isn’t interesting?” Evelyn cocked her head to the side.

“Well, considering―”

“Dragon fat, hmm? I can only imagine how much that must have cost.” Varric couldn’t stop laughing; apparently, Hawke delivered it in a jar with a bow.

His face went bright red.

“Do you still use that? Or something else?”

Cullen straightened, returning her smile. The blush was still present on his face. “I could show you, that is. The pomade is in my quarters.”

Andraste’s ass he did it again! Evelyn cleared her throat. “Commander―”

“Evelyn.”

“―I think we should discuss work.” She couldn’t look at him and his stupid smug smile.

“As you wish, Inquisitor.”

* * *

Evelyn hovered by the banister, Madame de Fer’s back facing her. She was always outside, overlooking the courtyard. Probably looking down on everyone, it was what she did best.

With a shake of her head, Evelyn went to ask Dorian for another book.

* * *

It was another of the Inquisition’s banquets, personally organized by Vivienne. So, of course Skyhold was filled with nobles. They all happen to be Orlesian too. What a surprise.

Evelyn sighed, pulling down her red sleeves. They really needed new uniforms, not these horrible red, itchy things. They also stood out like sore thumbs. The Inquisition hall was filled with colorful dresses and pretty shoes. Would it be so difficult for her to wear one? It was her birthright, and in another life she would have been doing the dancing. Not this political maneuvering with empty smiles and manipulating eyes.

She ironed out her face, forcing a small smile. A frowning Inquisitor wouldn’t do. With a need for air, Evelyn left the hallway heading outside to the main courtyard. Josephine hung lanterns around the perimeter, casting a romantic glow around the otherwise boring yet practical yard. Towards the right of the tavern stood a platform for the band, blocking off the rest of the yard. They also hung ribbons and garlands, all for the Orlesians. Well, they did do a nice job and crystal grace was her favorite flower.

She descended down the steps, watching couples twirl around each other. Standing by the stairs, she swayed to the soft lull of the music closing her eyes. Maybe she could dance with someone without ulterior motives.

Opening her eyes, Evelyn grumbled. It was time to be the Inquisitor again.

“My lady?”

A big fat smile spread her face―the first real one of the night. “Commander.”

Although she hated the uniforms, Cullen filled them out nicely. Red and gold were his color, doing marvelous things to his complexion. His hair was slicked back, not a curl out of place and it was annoying. She should mess up his hair, no one should appear that perfect. What did he use? Dragon fat, beeswax, or regular animal fat? Shit, he asked a question.

“Excuse me, I thought you said you wanted to dance.”

Cullen nodded, holding out his hand.

Evelyn glanced behind her shoulder and then to the dancing couples. The nobles could wait a few minutes, Josephine would handle it.

She placed her hand in his. “Very well.”

 He led her to the dance floor (adjusted courtyard) and pulled her into her arms. It was romantic like a scene in one of those romantic novels until he ruined it by stepped on her foot.

“Sorry, uhm,” Cullen cleared his throat before continuing, “dancing has never been a strong point.”

Evelyn responded with a blunder of her own. Mostly for spite, but also to appease him. “There was no need to dance in the Circle.”

Cullen laughed, drawing her closer. His movements were clumsy holding no elegance the other dancers possessed and yet it was the highlight of her night. Everything melted away. It was Evelyn and Cullen enjoying each other’s company. Perhaps more than she should.

“Thank you, Cullen,” Evelyn began, the music changed and more than ten minutes had passed. She should thank him; tell him how much the dancing meant. “Next time I’ll demand that you learn to dance,” she said instead. Hopefully, it sounded more like a joke than a command.

Cullen let go of her waist, walking towards the stairs. There he stopped, his attention on her. “As you wish.”

Simple words really, but her chest squeezed so maybe they weren’t simple words. More than words but that was silly, how could words be more than words? She gulped and her body swayed, Cullen steadying her. It brought them closer together.

“I think you’ve danced enough,” Cullen said, scrunching his brow.

Evelyn nodded, watching his lips move.  Evelyn leaned forward, her fingers clenching his uniform. A little more―

Everything went silent, even the music. She stepped away from Cullen and groaned. A large circle formed around them, women giggling and pointing at them. Well, she missed that detail.

Coughing, Cullen also stepped back. “Duty calls.”

“Yes, it does I suppose.” Will it ever stop?

* * *

Blackwall and Iron Bull sat side-by-side, each tipping back a drink. Evelyn swallowed. She only planned on meeting with Iron Bull...next time!

Evelyn took a step back, if she left quick enough no one would notice her presence.

“Hey, boss!”

“Shitttt,” Evelyn muttered, then louder, “Iron Bull, Blackwall, what brings you here?”

“Sharing a pint,” Blackwall said, raising his high. He didn’t treat her with an air of caution, dropping the whole leader and holiness speal. It must be the alcohol, making him loose and relaxed.

Seemed like it wasn’t the first drink, although Iron Bull’s eye held that shine that saw everything. He was undressing her, seeing underneath flesh and bone and laying bare all her fears. Last time she would recruit a spy. Shaking off his gaze, Evelyn joined them at the bar her back facing Cabot. The tavern wasn’t crowded, hosting the usuals: Bull’s charges and some Inquisition forces.

“Will you join us, boss?” Bull tilted his head back, glancing at her with a smirk.

Evelyn grimaced but nodded. Last time she refused, but it was different now.

“Cabot, one for the boss!”

Soon there was a pint in her hands, the yellow liquid swishing. Evelyn took a sip and wrinkled her nose. How did people drink this?

“What brings you here?” Blackwall asked dropping the pronouns.

She took another sip, sinking into the bar stool. The second time wasn’t as terrible. “Seeking some good company.”

“You’ve come to the right place then.” Blackwall finished his drink, slapping it on the counter. “Another one,” he told Cabot, then to her, “Fancy party you threw there.”

“You mean Madame Vivienne.”

“Ha! I thought there were too many Orlesians. Have any fun, boss?” Bull’s smile stretched wide.

Evelyn straightened her slouching back. “Report anything worthwhile?”

Bull laughed the sound infections. Blackwall joined in too and it had her giggling as well. “You got me there.” Bull always managed to assuage her suspicions. At least temporarily.

“Now, now.” Blackwall placed a hand on their shoulders. “We’re all friends here, sharing a good drink. Surprised you joined, though.”

“Well,” Evelyn cleared her throat, “I’ve never truly…shared a drink with friends.” The Circle didn’t allow excessive drinking, might loosen their hold on magic and kill everyone. And friends, well it was hard to make any when they kept dying or using her. “Thought this a good time to start as any.”

“Then drink!” Bull made an example of his own, ordering another one after he finished.   

Evelyn followed suit, one drink becoming three. She leaned on Blackwall, keeping a firm hand on her pint. “I think…I think I drinked too much.”

“Heh, it’s good to, to let loose. ‘Specially you.” Blackwall gave her a slight nudge.

Evelyn shifted, placing her head on the bar. It was comfy and warm, a good spot to nap. With a sigh, she closed her eyes.

* * *

Evelyn was warm. Her limbs were heavy and her eyes pounded, but she was warm and never felt better. Cool fingers brushed away her hair, tucking them behind her ear. Without opening her eyes, she reached out, her hands meeting with fur and silk. Pulling it closer, the bed dipped and she nuzzled the fur. Thick and soft, it didn’t belong to a dog or a cat.

Whatever.

Tangling her fingers in the fur, Evelyn drifted off.

* * *

“The walls remain, tall and forbidding. Cracks are forming and soon it crumbles. Will it destroy her?”

He appeared out of nowhere, probably tailing her for a while.

“Cole,” Evelyn said, voice tight. She shut the door to her room and faced him. “What did we say about this?”

“It won’t,” he insisted, continuing as if she never spoke, “a single thread might break but twist more together and they hold.”

Evelyn snorted. “Unless you use a knife. Anyway Cole.” She needed to change the subject, away from everything. “How are you faring?”

Cole didn’t comment, accepting the change in topic. “The amulet, have you found it?”

“Not yet, but we’re one it.” A few days in fact but that was the least of her worries. Should he become more human or spirit like? Both had their advantages and disadvantages.

“I help, taking the fear away but I won’t take too much. I am not that.”

“I know.” She smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I know…” Maybe human, he was halfway there already on his own. He just needed a little push―shove in the right direction.

* * *

Evelyn stood a good distance away from his tower, watching the messengers come and go. With a gulp, she lifted her head and walked towards the tower. She pushed the door open, glass scraping the floor. “What in th―” Shards of wood and glass littered the floor, a broken box by her feet. A snarky comment was about to leave her lips but they died on the way out.

Cullen’s hands pressed on his desk, his head hanging.

“Cullen?”

He jerked up, smoothing his hair to no avail as rebellious curls refused to stay put. Black circles lined his eyes and he carried an air of weariness that wasn’t present before. Cullen hadn’t looked this exhausted the last time they met. Which had been a while… She spent the last month in Empress Du lion.

“A man once told me to confide in people, I think he should listen to his advice.” She took a few steps closer, the desk separating them.

Cullen grunted. “I suppose so, Maker’s breath.” He wiped the sweat away from his brow.

Evelyn frowned. “Maybe you should take a few days off, you look ill.” He was in pain, sweating, weak voice― “Cullen,” Evelyn said with steel in her voice, “as the Inquisitor, I demand you rest. Up you go.”

“I never meant for this to interfere. I can do better, the Inquisition deserves―”

“Now.” She didn’t let him finish, going around the desk and pulling his arm over her shoulder.

He struggled, trying to fight her off. “I can―I don’t―”

“Can you go up?” she asked. The man was so stubborn, worse than a mabari.

Cullen hesitated before answering. “Yes, I think.”

Thankfully he managed. Evelyn was right behind him, in case he fell. She couldn’t catch him but a spell would lessen the blow of the fall. She helped him to his bed where he collapsed with all his armor.

She unbuckled his boots and gloves, having trouble with the chest plate. “Care to help?”

Cullen sat up, undoing the buckles and belts that held the piece. Evelyn left his armor on the floor, not bothering to place it on the stand. He would get over it.

Sitting at the head of the bed, Evelyn pulled his head into her lap.

“What are you―”

“A simple healing spell, will make some of the pain go away.” Not that it would do a lot of good, but he didn’t need to know that. She cupped his cheeks, her eyes flicking down to his lips. With a gulp, Evelyn whispered the words and her hands glowed. He sagged into her touch, his wrinkled brow smoothing away.

Although the man was suffering from withdrawal and the air had a sickly tint to it, their interaction was intimate, romantic. Yes, they had moments(or whatever they’re called) of tension but that was before. And touching was new. His skin was clammy and warm, the scruff on his face tickling her fingers. How would his skin feel when he was well? Not as warm and smooth?

The glow faded and Cullen didn’t stir. Had he―? Evelyn poked his cheek. He didn’t move. With a small smile, she let her fingers roam. Using light pressure, they went over his eyes, down his nose, stopping at his lips. She ran her finger over his scar, finding it bumpy compared to his lips. Further down her fingers went, resting on his collarbone. She leaned over him, her nose over his.

What was she doing?

Her face burning, Evelyn sat back removing her hands. This was ridiculous and completely inappropriate. He was the Commander of the Inquisition forces and sick. Andraste’s tits this was bad. She had to leave, couldn’t stay here anymore. Evelyn moved his head from her lap, tried to tuck him in but failed―he was asleep on the sheets, and left only to come back a few minutes later with a bowl filled with water and a rag. She couldn’t leave him alone, not when he was sick. What if something happened?

Dipping the rag in the water, she placed it over his forehead. Evelyn sat by his bed, checking his temperature and changing the rag every hour or so. By the time the sun started filling the room Cullen hadn’t moved an inch. She yawned and stretched her protesting muscles. Soon Josephine would come knocking on her door, setting the day’s itinerary. Maybe she’ll have mercy and give Evelyn the day off.

Evelyn bit her lip, glancing at Cullen. With a sigh, she shook his shoulder. Cullen snapped awake, grabbing her arm and pulled. She fell on top of him, half her body landing on his while the other half dangled off the bed.

“Fuck.” She pushed herself up, her body in an awkward position. They were in the wrong position, he was supposed to be on top. Oh Maker, where did that come from?

Cullen let go of her hand, trying to create as much space between them as possible. “I―what―uh.” He gulped, his eyes falling on the wet rag and armor on the floor. “Thank you.”

Evelyn smiled, standing up. She brushed off invisible lint and said, “I can lend an ear although you may have to schedule an appointment. The Inquisitor―” since when did she refer to herself as such? “―is needed by all.” Her stare went blank and she stiffened. “Anyway, you have the day off. You need to rest and I have to go.”

“Evelyn, wait.”

She didn’t listen, rushing off to find Josephine and grudge through the day. What a fine start.

* * *

Cassandra sat on her stump―Maker forbid anyone who dared sit on it―reading the latest addition to _Swords and Shield._ She was near the end, the pages showing a good amount of wear.

“How is it?” Evelyn asked.

“Oh wonderful! I had to read it again.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Good!” Varric will love hearing that. “Anyway, I have a question.”

Cassandra snapped the book shut and stood. “Yes?”

“I spoke to Cullen and his condition is…he’s struggling.”

Her face hardened and she nodded. “Yes, such is the plight of templars but as we’ve discussed, one I fully support.”

“As do I.” Did Cassandra think the opposite? “Is there no remedy, a―a temporary pollute or potion for the pain?”

Cassandra shook her head. “Not that I know of, have you asked a healer? Why bring this to me?”

Evelyn rubbed her arm. “I don’t know how many people know, and it’s not something he’d want people knowing.”

Her mouth tilted to the side and she brightened. “You know him well,” she said and there was nothing special to the words, but the way she said it. She was as subtle as a dragon.

“I like to care for my advisors. It doesn’t bode well if they’re ill.”

“That is true.” Cassandra looked down to the book, and then back to her. “Here, you need this more than I.” She shoved the book into Evelyn’s arms.

“But I―”

“As your friend,” Cassandra interrupted, “I insist. It reminds me of you.”

* * *

The next time she saw Cullen he had improved. He stood in the center of the courtyard, yelling at recruits. His skin held a healthy glow and no smudges lined his eyes.

Fearsome and beautiful.

“It makes me happy to see our Inquisitor overseeing the training of our troops,” Cassandra said, coming up behind her.

Evelyn jumped and cursed. Of course she would be around, this was her spot. “Yes, but it’s missing something.”

“Like what?”

With a look over her shoulder, Evelyn approached the circle greeting everyone with a simple hello.

“Inquisitor,” Cullen said, cocking his head.

“Commander,” she returned, her title didn’t bother her as much as it used to. “Perhaps we should show how one might battle a mage. We are fighting the Venatori.” A collective gasp escaped the recruits but she kept her gaze on Cullen.

She read the question in his eyes and smiled. Any other mage could do this, so why her? Evelyn pulled out her staff as an answer. It was a good thing she just arrived from the Storm Coast. Saved her the time of fetching it.

Cullen sighed, readying his sword and shield.

Not wasting any time, Evelyn aimed for his head ice erupting from her staff. He staggered back, eyes wide. Good. She followed up with fire and then electricity, Cullen evading rather than deflecting. 

“Water and electricity, a bad combo. Avoid it! Metal makes it all the worse.”

Evelyn nodded. “The smell isn’t pleasant.” With a swing of her staff, Evelyn faded appearing behind Cullen. She brought her staff down for a strike meeting Cullen’s shield. He retaliated with a swing of his own. Evelyn flicked on a barrier and cast another ice spell, freezing him to the spot. With a laugh, she created distance between them and waited.

Cullen broke the ice and let out a shout, one that made her knees weak for all the wrong reasons. It was all the time he needed to bash her with the shield. Evelyn fell to the ground and Cullen gasped. He dropped his shield and sword, crouching over her. “I never, I thought you would―”

With a growl, Evelyn kicked him in the stomach and whacked him on the head with her staff.

She stood, dusting off her pants. “Make sure the target is down, with one cast you could have died.”

Cullen rubbed his head, a bump forming on his temple. “Indeed.”

Evelyn winced and closed the distance between them, touching his bump. She cooled her hand essentially forming a makeshift ice pack. It was Cullen’s face that tipped her off, a mixture of surprise and disbelief. Andraste’s knickers, they were in public!

She whipped her hand back, clutching it to her chest. “Uh, as you were.” She caught Cassandra’s gaze, looking smug.

Perfect.

* * *

“Here again, yeah? Can’t muck up the desk again…Something new, something fun.” Sera walked around Cullen’s empty office, hand on her chin.

Evelyn glanced at the desk, running a hand over it. She hadn’t talked to him since the incident and that hadn’t stopped the rumors. Now the real mystery was why Sera didn’t bring it up yet. She sure had her colorful opinions. 

“Maybe his room,” Evelyn said, regretting the words the instant they left her mouth.  

Sera raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Oh, someone’s seen the views, then. Been on top? About friggin’ time.”

“Oh!” She squeaked, face turning red. “No, no, no, I mean, mess with his pomade and something.”

"Fine don’t share, don’t care. Just one question though, does he eat peaches?” Sera wiggled her eyebrows.     

“Piss off,” Evelyn said, imitating Sera’s voice. It didn’t work was well as she hoped.

“Pfft, almost got that one, yeah. Bit more work though.” Sera pranced to the ladder, holding onto it and performing half a spin. “Inky, Inky, Inky, maybe some good o’ bees? Nah, too predictable, won’t do. Hmmm.”

“What if,” Evelyn started, licking her lips. “What if we put some of your flask in it? The frozen one? A bit of freeze won’t hurt anyone.”

Sera clapped her hands together. “Ohhhh yessss, devious, you.” She scrambled up the steps, the different flasks hanging from her hips.

Does she bring them everywhere? Shaking her head, Evelyn followed her up.

* * *

“I’ve missed you,” she said at a distance where he would never hear her.

Alas, for some Maker forsaken reason, he turned and found her on the battlements. He couldn’t hear her, no, it wasn’t possible. The wind was blowing too hard and the regular chatter of Skyhold swallowed any sound she made. Plus the distance. But that didn’t explain why her cheeks turned beet red, or how he smiled like he heard. Impossible.

Cullen finished chatting with the soldier, shouted out more commands, and made his way to her. “Evelyn,” he said, eyes crinkling. Maker’s breath he heard! The man was way too happy.

“Yes, wonderful day, wind is blowing hard today, yes, yes, a bit cold, but it's comfortable kind of cold. Are you cold, Commander?” The blasted blush won’t leave, and his face was too bright.

“Are you unwell? Your face is red.” He pulled off a glove and placed a hand on her forehead.

Evelyn’s blush reached her ears and neck.

“Maker’s breath! You’re burning!” He unbuckled his fur vest, wrapping it around her.

Sweat already lined her brow and with the added heat, she was sweating even more. “I’m not―I’m fine Cullen.” His closeness made her dizzy and her throat dry and maybe she was coming down with a cold.

“Come now, let’s get you to a healer.” He placed a hand on her back and it burned.

She wasn’t sick, this wasn’t―no, this was an infatuat―

“Cullen!” she said, having difficulty breathing. “I’m not ill, just, just tired. Very tired. Yes. So, no healer and very hot, this is very warm. And soft…” She’d touched this before, snuggled to it, sniffed it. Andraste’s flaming knickers! “That was you!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You! When I was drunk! You brought me to my room.” She poked him in the chest too hard, hurting her finger.

Cullen rubbed his neck. “I, well, I suppose so.” It was his turn to blush, his turn to avoid her gaze.

“I suppose so? I―I―” Why was she getting mad? Oh, because he embarrassed her. Evelyn removed his vest, folding it in her arms. “Thank you, for taking care of me. Now uh, back to work.”

He nodded. “As you wish.”

Later throughout the day, his words kept ringing, bringing a blush to her cheeks. It sounded awfully like a confession.

* * *

Solas sat in his chair sipping a cup of tea. He made the same disgusted face but continued to drink from the mug.

“If you detest the stuff, why continue drinking?” Evelyn asked.

He leaned back in his chair, setting the mug down. “Merely habit I suppose, one I wish not to relinquish.”

“Strange one to keep.” Evelyn leaned on his desk folding her arms. It almost rivaled Cullen’s, but Solas had far fewer papers and more books. He also kept that weird, skull thing around. Blue, eerie eyes smiling at her in a silent mocking. Evelyn shook her head. “Anyway, I didn’t come here to comment on your distaste in tea.”

“Are you sure? It is a topic you often visit.” Solas’s mouth quipped to the side.

Tea was her saving grace back in the Circle, one of the only luxuries allowed. Oh, how the novices fought and begged for some… “I have a question.”

He stood from his chair and faced her. “How can I help?”

Evelyn dropped her gaze. “You know things, more than things, and I wanted to know something as well. You―well, how does one go about living their life, holding a heavy chain? A shackle that won’t let go.” It’d loosened, but not enough.

Solas shuffled his feet, and Evelyn raised her head. His eyes flashed green and it happened so quickly it could have been the trick of the light. “You speak of the Circle?”

Evelyn nodded.

“Embrace it, and then, forget it. Move forward using your past as a pillar, not a self-inflicted cage.”

* * *

She found him in the courtyard, coming out of the chapel. No one was around, not even Morgana at this ungodly hour.

“Cullen?” Evelyn murmured.

It was quiet enough that he heard her. Cullen stopped, turned around, and tilted his head in greeting. “Inquisitor.” He didn’t move.

Evelyn took a few steps closer. “Nightmares?”

“Yes, but not as frequent as before. You too?”

Good, the potions were helping. “Yes, duty and all keeps me up.”

Cullen took a step closer. “Only duty?”

She cranked her head back, the stars blinking in the sky. Was the Maker up there? Or was it all horseshit? She was never religious, but as Herald and Inquisitor, her faith disappeared. “Don’t you wonder what’s out there? Away from Thedas and across the ocean. There has to be more, don’t you think?”

His footsteps crunched under the grass and the clanking of armor was absent. “Perhaps, and perhaps one day we could send out a convoy.”

He was so close his heat reached her, leaving her other side cold. Evelyn brushed her hand against his. “After we defeat Corypheus.”

“After we defeat Corypheus.” Cullen grabbed her hand, entwining their fingers. A pleasant warmth shot through her. Skin against skin was unlike any luxury she had before. There was something marvelous about learning to appreciate touch for what it was, not use it for manipulation.

She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. They weren’t anything at the moment but a man and woman staring at the sky together. Evelyn could stay here forever. “I think I love you.”

Cullen choked and let go of her hand. “You think?”

Frowning, she said, “Well, considering that this shit is all new and all, yes, I think. I never, the Circle―”

“I know,” Cullen cut her off and grabbed her hands. “Why now?”

Why now indeed? There were other chances and opportunities, but it would have been for lust, not this. Her heart wouldn’t be beating against her ribcage and her breaths wouldn’t falter. “I’m more than my titles and blood. Are―”

He pulled her close and kissed her, consuming whatever words were about to leave her lips. She tangled her hands in his hair, pushing her body against his. He was like drowning man, drinking her in.

Finally they separated, her lips bruised red. Evelyn rested her head on his shoulder, inhaling deeply. Beeswax, oil, and some ice. Ice from Sera’s prank. Evelyn laughed.

“Was I that bad?” he asked, hand hesitant on her waist.

“No, it was…more than I expected.” She kissed his neck. “And I expect more.”

“As you wish,” Cullen said, tipping her head back for another kiss.  

**Author's Note:**

> I have a slight obsession with Princess Bride. Best movie ever. Go watch it now if you haven't.


End file.
